


a dragon needs no pity

by soundofez



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: (Soul Eater Evans), (Wes Evans), Alternate Universe - Dragons, Gen, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofez/pseuds/soundofez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for a dragon has more defenses than size or strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a dragon needs no pity

This close to the dragon's lair, he should be more careful, and he knows it, but the sight of the dragon's girl stumbling toward him in tears shocks him into dropping his defenses. Her arms wrap around his waist, blocking his sheathed sword from his reach, and he curses her even as he tries to calm her. He's not a favored prince, not a man of the courts, and though he tries to soothe the tearful girl, his words are edged with irritation.

"Thank the gods, thank the gods," she sobs, ignoring the hard angles of his metal under the bare skin of her cheek.

"Ma'am, the dragon," he hisses, giving up his meagre attempts at comfort.

The girl gives a hysterical snort. "Oh, him," she hiccups, withdrawing just enough to dab at her eyes with one emerald sleeve. "He's left the cave for now, thank the gods!" She throws her hands against his breastplate, her fingers scrabbling against the smooth metal. "We should leave, and quickly!" And she stumbles away, sparing anxious looks at him, as though worried he won't follow.

He follows, of course: he only really came for the girl. It's a relief to not have to fight the dragon at all.

They travel in silence until nightfall. Then, the girl opens her satchel and presents to him a bottle of fine wine. "To celebrate my escape," she tells him, her green eyes gleaming. "Please, have some tonight!"

They've made good time, and so long as they don't create a campfire he's reasonably certain that the dragon cannot track them now. "Gladly," he tells the girl, accepting the bottle.

He's not sure when he falls asleep that night, but he wakes early the next morning stripped of his armour and weapons, propped against an unfamiliar wall in an unfamiliar street, to a pounding headache and the door beside him creaking open.

"Sid," a woman's voice says, "we've another one."

* * *

None of the men who have gone after the dragon and its captive girl have ever returned.

It's with this in mind that the prince does not partake of the wine. "Thank you for the offer, milady, but I cannot rest easy until we have returned to my kingdom," Wes Evans tells the girl mildly.

She curtsies back, subdued. "Sir," she tries, green eyes earnest, "if you wish to rest better tonight, I can brew tea for you. Please, sir, I wish to aid you as best I can."

He considers, but though his mind nags he cannot find a reason to decline. "Rather than rest better, it might be wise not to rest at all. Can you brew a potion to keep me awake, instead?"

She nods, and he builds her a covered little fire for the flask she has brought with her. He downs the mixture (flowery and sweet and faint, like the girl) and leans against a tree, one hand on his unsheathed sword, the other in the clutches of the girl as she dozes, curled up, beside him.

The next morning, he too wakes stripped of his valuables in a strange town to a boy with bright blue hair and equally bright blue eyes peering down at him curiously. "Ain't you a prince?" he asks rudely. "No commoner's got hair that silver."

* * *

"Girl, we must defeat the dragon," the commander of the force insists. "It has killed too many of our men for us to simply let it roam freely once more."

She pouts, but her expression is sorrowful rather than petulant. "Men who came of their own volition," she says sadly. "Sir, I beg you, do not join their number. I could not bear it. Please, take me away with you," she begs.

He shakes his head, resolute. "Nay, girl. I must avenge those who came before. Leave, if you like."

The girl shakes her head as well, flaxen pigtails swaying. "I would not last on my own all the way out of the woods. The dragon knows this. That is why he leaves me unguarded."

The commander regards her a for a moment, and then lays down his ultimatum. "Help me slay the dragon, and you will have your escape."

She bows her head. "I shall do my best," she promises the cavern floor softly, and guides him and his soldiers through the lair. "Here," she tells him, pointing to a room filled with lit incense. "The dragon sleeps with his hoard next door. I know not when he will return, but he will not smell you here. You may kill him as he sleeps."

He lays a careful , armoured hand on her shoulder in gratitude. "Thank you, fair maiden. We shall bring you out of the woods once the deed is done."

She turns her eyes upon him, her gaze green and ethereal. "I cannot stay here," she tells him regretfully. "He cannot smell well around this room, but he keeps it for me, and checks on me often when he cannot smell me. I must await him by the cave entrance, or he will come straight here."

She departs, but brings several bottles of liquor to strengthen their hearts and their minds before the terrible battle to come.

They wake to the early morning bustle of a market. The commander, bewildered, finds himself faced with a lost prince dressed humbly.

"Sly dragon she may be, but she's merciful, too," Wes comments to the wind, a sympathetic smile playing about his lips as he watches the town's unofficial mayor struggle to address the town's new residents.

* * *

His sword is already unsheathed when she stumbles toward him, so she pulls up short, her eyes wide and confused and brimming with tears.

"Are you alright?" he asks the girl neutrally, assessing her.

"Y-yes, sir," she replies uncertainly, her gaze fixed on his sword, looking frightened.

"Where is the dragon?"

She inhales nervously. "Gone, for now. He comes and goes as he pleases. I know not when he will return."

He nods crisply, strides to her with sword still raised, and then straight past her, into the lair.

"Sir!" the girl calls, alarmed, scrambling after him.

"Milady." His eyes, red and piercing, slide to meet hers. "What is your name?"

She blinks, her shoulders lifting defensively. "Ah— Maka."

He nods again, pale hair waving, and his eyes slide away from her again. "I am Soul."

"Soul," Maka says slowly, tasting the name, and then more urgently, "Soul, sir, you must leave before the dragon returns. Please, I don't—" Her voice hitches. She gulps, and when she continues, her voice is ragged. "I don't want to see more bloodshed."

Soul's answer is determined and vengeful. "Would that I could. The dragon took someone precious from me. I swore I would defeat it."

Maka follows him in silence for several paces, digesting his words. "Then, let me aid you, as best I can?" she finally asks. "I've been here for such a long time, now. I've dreamed of ways to defeat the beast."

"Tell me of these dreams, then, Maka."

So she guides him to the incense room.

"The scent is thick," Soul agrees, "but drugging, too. I'd fall asleep here in no time at all. Haven't you other dreams?"

Maka shrugs helplessly, wide-eyed. "I— It is the best I can offer. Anywhere else, and he'd find you immediately."

Soul studies the room and then turns his gaze on her. "The best, you say?"

"That I can offer," Maka repeats, meekly. "I thought... I thought you'd have a chance, here."

He regards her, and his gaze is unsympathetic. "Maka, you said your name was?" he asks suddenly. "You are the dragon, no?"

She startles and backs away from him. "How?" she asks dumbly.

Soul smiles a razor smile. "I learned from the best. The courts are filled with actors, Maka, if that is even your name."

"It is," she confesses, stammering. "Soul—"

"Did you learn their names, too, before you devoured them?" he growls, quiet, deadly.

"I never!" she bursts angrily, dancing nimbly away from him as he lifts his sword at her. "I never hurt a one of them!" she continues furiously. "I just want to be left alone! Drugged them and stripped them and flew them to a town half a world away so I could be sure they would never come back!"

Soul has stopped advancing. "They're alive?" he asks, blankly. "Wes is alive?"

So she takes him to the port she's inadvertently created, a trading outpost now. They all know her here, but those who remain had nothing to leave behind when they came to her, and do not begrudge her her deceit.

Soul greets his brother in a daze as he slips from Maka's scaled back.

"She never told us her name," Wes tells his little brother, his smirk lopsided as he watches Soul watch a pigtailed girl scowl at a blue-haired boy. "Then again, we never asked."

Soul turns back to him. "Surely, if we simply tell the kingdom—"

"Nay, Soul," Wes cuts him off, his smirk softening. "Dragons will always be dragons to the common folk."

Soul glances at Maka again. She catches his eye and snorts, all of her pretended meekness gone. "Get that look off your face," she tells him carelessly. "A dragon needs no pity."

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from tumblr ([original](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/115831708168/dragon)).


End file.
